Selador Sellador Cellador
Selidor Selladore

Selador is a phono-aesthetic act of senseless beauty. Selador is a graceful little expression. Selador is a contraction, a crasis, a linguistic mutation. It is a kiss-curl of a word, flouncing, winding, stretching, only to twist back up around itself once more. Selador is always halfway, neither here nor there, neither under nor over. It does not run away, yet it cannot be found; it cannot be crossed, yet it is across. Celador, Cellador, Salador, Selador, Selerdor, Selidor, Sellador, Selladore.

Dead Sea Dead Lines
Eternal Internet Brotherhood

Sunglasses at Night

Little Red Riding Hood: 'Hey Wolfie, why d'you wear sunglasses at night? 'Wolf: 'All the better for feeling the music, Little Red.' 'And also for feeling better about myself ', he would think, stepping on the delay pedal of his guitar.

Little Red Riding Hood is a class of '89 or '92: she doesn't know the world without Internet; she doesn't know boredom like Sartre or Kurt Cobain did because she's got a smartphone. Her hair is partially bleached, her makeup very pale on her skin and very dark on her lips. When she records her ASMR videos, she puts on a little less makeup: she likes to be fairly natural-looking on the net; she wants her everyday intimacy to shine through. She's pretty good with video and sound; she has loads of followers, and what makes her stand out from the crowd of ASMR girls are her concessions to literature and poetry. She didn't introduce these elements right from the start; first she got used to whispering them. After that, after countless motivational sessions, she started to experiment. She bought a new 3d microphone, a Snowball made by Blue: it's white with chrome on the parts corresponding to the reception areas. It's an extremely beautiful object, and one of exceptional quality. The sounds it produces are full-bodied and enveloping. Now she can put together some really satisfying soundscapes.

The Wolf was born in the early '80s, or perhaps late '70s. He bears the stigma of that obsolete date of birth, although he's secretly very proud of it. The Wolf is very familiar with boredom, with real, traditional boredom. The one the put paid to the generation before his and the one before that. Yet he was a smart enough kid to get his smack through a blunt but not through a blunt needle. He gave it all up when he became the guitarist in a hardcore band. All straight-edge guys. The band split up after a few months: long enough to become a local legend, too little to sign a contract with Epitaph. He carried on playing melodic hardcore and slept with a few photo editors, managing to make a bit of cash with fashion shoots and shows. Now he occasionally deals with the organisation of parties and events, and co-produces short films.

Rome has almost the same microclimate as Los Angeles and the same traditional thirst for fiction. Cinema needs darkness like the desert needs water. Someone must have thought of that, at a certain point, up there in Mulholland. Chinatown (R. Polanski, 1974). And so the water was channelled away into the scorched valley, stealing it from the citrus groves, to build huge cinema sets and make great films. The Day of the Locust (J. Schlesinger, 1975). Films produce stars and stars need boredom and sunglasses, as well as oscillating levels of serotonin. Rebel Without a Cause (1955, N. Ray).Then the footage finished and all that's left are the boredom, the sunglasses and the Xanax. The Informers (1994, Bret Easton Ellis). Internet took away the shades and the Xanax (or at least a bit of Xanax, not all of it), and alchemically turned boredom into anhedonia and pixels into wonder. Sex became pinky-smooth, or pearly-white, and rhythmically meditative. Youporn (World Wide Web, 2006). Quite what happened to affection is unknown. ASMR (Facebook, 2010). ASMR, via YouTube, puts affectivity and binaural vibrations back into circulation.

Videogiochi

The night is still and the frost it bites my face
I wear my silence like a mask and murmur like a ghost
Trick or treat, trick or treat, the bitter and the sweet
Trick or treat, trick or treat, the bitter and the sweet

The carefree days are distant now I wear my memories like a shroud
I try to speak but words collapse, echoing, echoing
Trick or treat, trick or treat, the bitter and the sweet
Trick or treat, trick or treat, the bitter and the sweet

I wander though your sadness
Gazing at you with scorpion eyes
Halloween, Halloween
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

A sweet reminder in the ice-blue nursery
Of a childish murder of hidden luster and she cries
Trick or treat, trick or treat, the bitter and the sweet
Trick or treat, trick or treat, the bitter and the sweet

I wander through your sadness
Gazing at you with scorpion eyes
Halloween, Halloween
Halloween, Halloween
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Siouxsie and The Banshees Halloween

Selador.me is a project initiated by Anna Franceschini.
Designed and programmed by Vela Arbutina and John McCusker.